


Fire and Frost

by OtterMcKilbourne (p_3a)



Series: NaNoWriMo 2014 [7]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, PTSD, PTSD Anduin, Past Abuse, housefire mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2572364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/OtterMcKilbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a false fire alarm in Wrathion's building; the handsome man from apartment 37 is caught out in his underwear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Frost

It was three in the morning when the fire alarm went off.

Good thing Wrathion was up watching Star Trek at the time.

He huddled outside in three layers of clothing and a blanket for good measure, shuffling along the designated fire escape route with the other residents of his building. The cold air of outside hit his face once the back door was opened, setting off yet another awful alarm, this one high-pitched and peeping where the main one was swooping and loud. Wrathion grit his teeth and kept moving.

They gathered in the car park, where the elderly landlord called out apartment numbers in a clear voice. Wrathion listened for his - apartment 33 - and confirmed he was the only one living there before pulling up the hood on his second jacket and wrapping the blanket around his face. What a night for the alarm to be set off. There was even a light dusting of snow on the ground; Wrathion had the foresight to slip his boots on, though the laces were undone. He didn't envy those in slippers.

Slowly, he turned his attention to the other residents. It was on doing this that he realised quite a few of them were awkwardly glancing in a certain direction and murmuring among themselves. Curious, he shuffled around to look at where they were staring.

It was the handsome man from apartment 37, across the corridor.

And he was only wearing his underwear.

At first, Wrathion was inclined to snicker, like a few of the less gracious residents, or to stare like some of the less subtle ones. Until he realised, of course, that the handsome man from apartment 37 did not appear to find his predicament amusing. He was shaking - perhaps from the cold, were it not for the fact that tears were streaming down his face and sobs were heaving his shoulders. Obviously not as amusing as some of the residents were finding it, and the landlord Tong seemed not to have noticed, focussed instead on calling role.

Wrathion decided he should be the one to do something, then. He walked across, ignoring the stares, and addressed him.

"Apartment 37, right?"  
He nodded, shaking.  
"Here." Only a little relucantly, he took his blanket off from around his shoulders and handed it to him.

The handsome man from apartment 37 took it, with numb hands, and draped it over his shoulders. "Th-Thank you..."  
"You looked cold. Here." Wrathion - noting his stiff gestures - helped him wrap it around his shoulders, tightly, covering him up and hoping he'd feel warmer. "I'm Wrathion."  
"My name's Anduin," he stuttered, "sorry--"  
"There's really no need to apologise. Although I'd rather like it if whoever's responsible for the alarm would do, because they've put both of us rather out of our way, haven't they?"

Anduin giggled giddily, nervously. "Yeah..." He brought one of his hands up out of the blanket to rub at his face; tears were still rolling down his cheeks. "S-- Sorry, the-- the cold is really bad for me, I just-- I'm sorry--"  
Wrathion looked him over again. He was starting to recognise that the handsome man from apartment 37 wasn't simply crying from the embarrassment of being caught out near-naked in front of the entire building; there was something else going on here, too. Something Wrathion thought he himself might possibly have experienced in the past - an anxiety attack, or a flashback, or something of that kin.  
"Perhaps it's too forward of me," he said, "but would you like to share the blanket, perhaps? It'll help you get warmer faster."  
Anduin looked like he'd been waiting to hear that his entire life, and gladly welcomed the shorter man to huddle up right by him.

For lack of knowing what better to say, Wrathion began talking about the episode he'd been watching before he was so rudely interrupted. He felt Anduin's breathing gradually even out beside him, his heartbeat slow and calm; just hearing a friendly voice seemed to be helping him. It helped Wrathion when he was in such a state, too, though he rarely got to listen to one - he didn't exactly have many friends, and those he  _did_ have tended to be awfully busy during nearly all their waking hours with things that couldn't simply be dropped in order to attend to one of Wrathion's numerous meltdowns. He hoped, vaguely, that the handsome man from apartment 37 would be a better friend for him; but he was happy to have helped him regardless.

Finally, the fire department gave the all-clear for the building to be re-entered. Wrathion helped Anduin back to his apartment door. "You can return the blanket tomorrow morning," he reassured. "I'm just across the hall, apartment 33."  
"Actually--" Anduin hesitated, shivering, "...actually, could you come in? I could probably, uh, use the company, if that's-- if that's something you're comfortable with, I mean, I could just return the blanket if you wanted--"  
The handsome man... was actually inviting him inside? For bad reasons, of course; Wrathion was much rather that Anduin not be panicking at all, and, presumably, therefore not be inviting him inside. "I'd be glad to," he said, before he could get much further through his reasoning.

Anduin unlocked the door with shaking hands, apologising all the while, and immediately rushed through to the bedroom - presumably to get dressed. Wrathion didn't follow him. He closed the apartment door for him, and shuffled through to the main living area, shedding his outer coat and second hoodie as he did so and folding them over his arm. Anduin's apartment was tastefully but cosily furnished, everything in calming shades of blue and pale yellow; there was a brass statue of a lion watching diligently over the room from a high position up on the windowsill. There was a large, comfortable-looking sofa, and a smaller but no less soft-seeming armchair; Wrathion decided to perch on the edge of the sofa.

Anduin was, indeed, fully dressed when he returned, though he still had Wrathion's blanket around his shoulders. It  _was_  a very good blanket. "So, um--" he said, breathing out, "sorry, I-- I'm being such an awful host! Let me put the kettle on--"  
Wrathion held up placating hands. "I'm not asking you to  _host_  me, Anduin. In fact, I'll put the kettle on for you, if you'll tell me where it is."  
"Over there," Anduin said, hanging his head.  
Wrathion gently patted his shoulder on his way past, in a way he hoped was reassuring. "You seem like you could use a cup of tea."  
Anduin laughed, in that same giddy way as before. "I really could..."

They made small talk about what TV shows Anduin liked while Wrathion made the tea, then sat down - next to each other, on the sofa - to drink it. Anduin broke the peaceful silence.  
"I guess I should tell you why I'm such a mess right now..."  
"You really don't have to," Wrathion said softly.  
"I want to," Anduin insisted. "I wouldn't feel right imposing on you and not telling you why."  
"You're not imposing on me at all." Wrathion raised an eyebrow. "I was just watching old Star Trek episodes."  
"Still..."  
"If telling me is what you want to do then I won't stop you," Wrathion reassured, holding one hand up. "Just don't feel as though you  _need_  to."  
"A-Alright." Anduin smiled sheepishly.

"When... when I was a little kid, my dad had a lot of problems with... drinking, and... he was living with this woman who did awful things to him, but obviously she was abusing him so he couldn't just leave. It... it really wasn't a good place for a kid to be living, so I was sent to live with my godfather. He was kind, and wonderful and lovely and it was one of the best times in my life. And it was all fine for years, but then... one winter, there was a housefire, and... h-he made it, but... but only just, and he has a lot of scarring, and his recovery took months too. I was stuck out in the cold with just the paramedics for company for hours, and it was honestly just awful. And I had to go live with my father again after that." He swallowed. Wrathion, knowing it'd helped before, gently leaned against him; Anduin gladly snuggled up to him, seeking comfort. "The woman had left, thank the Light, but Father still had a lot of problems with alcohol. He only ever actually  _hurt_  me once, but... it was scary sometimes, you know?"  
"I understand," Wrathion said, gently. "About your father, at least. It sounds like mine was worse, but. I know how it is that you're still frightened of them even when they haven't done anything for months."  
"I love my father," Anduin said, "but... I'm glad I'm living on my own now."  
"I'm glad you are too, then," Wrathion reassured.

They finished their tea, then put a movie on. Wrathion had in mind to go back to his own apartment once Anduin had fallen asleep, but Anduin happened to fall asleep  _on_  him. He supposed it didn't put him too far out of his way to just stay there; after all, the sofa was comfortable, the heating was on, and Anduin's hair - which Wrathion was stroking, tentatively at first, and moreso once Anduin showed he found it soothing - was very soft indeed.


End file.
